


you of little faith

by skylarkblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Claire-centric, Easter, F/F, Gen, Loss of Faith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3673569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylarkblue/pseuds/skylarkblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since Claire Novak stepped foot in a church. The girl across the hall, though, she goes every Sunday, like clockwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you of little faith

She’s a city girl now, through and through. She always told herself she’d never end up like this, but here she was, stumbling her way down the cold pavement early on a Sunday morning, phone in one hand, heels in the other. The air was brisk against her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms, even through her jacket.

Claire stopped at a news stand and grabbed a paper, digging through her pockets for change. She passed over a handful of bills and coins to the short man, who nodded at her, teeth clacking as he chewed his gum. He handed back her change and she continued her way down the road, just a half block away from her apartment. She paused and dropped her heels on the concrete, pushing her feet into them, wriggling her toes around to get a grip. She might be a city girl now, sure, but she was not ending her walk of shame barefoot.

She took the stairs two at a time, wishing desperately for some caffeine. That was the first thing she’d do once she was back up in her apartment; make a coffee, nice and strong to ward off the impending hangover. As she made it to the top of the stairs, the brunette from across the hall was coming out of her apartment, locking the door behind her, car keys clutched tight in her hand. They shared a brief nod and smile before Claire was back in her apartment, closing the door behind her. She sighed and rubbed her temples, glancing back at the door. Emma had lived across the hall for three months now, not that anyone but Claire would know it. She was quiet as a mouse, rarely coming out of her apartment except to get the mail. They’d spoken a few times, mostly over trivial things, and once a bit more over coffee when she'd run into Emma coming back up the stairs, crying. Claire knew three facts about Emma - that she was a brunette, that she had a poor relationship with her father, and that she lived across the hall. Also that she was _smoking hot_ , but that could really be argued as more of an opinion than a fact.

After a pause, she crossed the floor to the window, opening it wide and sticking her head out. Emma was heading down the street, fiddling with her keychain. “Hey!” Claire yelled, resting her elbows on the sill. Emma stopped and looked back, confused. “Emma!”

She looked up to where Claire was hanging out the window, tucking a strand of brown hair behind one ear. “Yeah?” she called back, eyebrows raised. The early morning breeze tossed her hair around in the soft light.

“Where are you going?” The blonde asked. Emma shrugged, biting her lip, then replied, “To church.”

Before she quite knew what she was saying, Claire answered back, “Can I come?”

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the request, herself or Emma. But after a moment, Emma yelled, “Sure!”

Claire gave her a thumbs up before pulling back into the apartment, slamming the window shut and kicking off her heels, squeezing into the flats she’d left under the table. There was no time to change, but she didn’t think last night’s black dress and leather jacket were  _too_ inappropriate for church. Her mother would’ve had a fit about it, but she hadn’t been in years; something about the look on Emma’s face as she was leaving had made her want to go. She paused by the mirror by the door and ran her fingers through her curls, pushing what little fringe she had back from her face and wiping the smudges from her lipstick. Her eyeliner had transformed itself into a spectacular smoky eye; she shrugged at her reflection and stepped outside, patting her pockets to check she had her keys and phone.

Emma was waiting for her by the door outside, toying with her keychain. Claire bit her lip, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Emma said. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Claire shuffled her feet, trying not to fidget. “Lead the way.”

Emma lead her down the street to a black, sleek car that was at least thirty years old. Claire did a double take, running her eyes over the familiar shape, before shaking her head; it wasn’t the same car. Similar, though. Close enough that she’d felt her heart freeze.

“Nice chevy,” she said, opening the passenger side door. The corner of Emma’s mouth twitched, but didn’t quite make it to a smile.

“Thanks,” the brunette replied, climbing in and running her hands over the steering wheel. “She’s a 1970 Malibu. Found her in a car yard in Maine.”

“Maine?” Claire asked. “Is that where you’re from?”

A frown crossed the other girl’s face, vanishing as soon as it appeared. “Not exactly. I was born in Seattle.”

“Oh,” she hesitated, then offered, “I’m from Illinois, originally.”

Emma didn’t reply this time, shifting her gaze on the road ahead. The Wichita streets were still bare, given the early hour, but there seemed to be something more to the emptiness, something Claire couldn’t place. They drove straight past the local church, where a crowd of people had gathered on the steps, without stopping. Claire turned in her seat, staring at the well-dressed crowd as they grew smaller and smaller, until they turned onto the highway.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, um - there’s this church, about an hour out of the city? I...I prefer to go there. If that’s okay.” Emma bit her lip, her grip on the wheel growing tighter.

“I don’t mind,” Claire tugged at her hair, twirling it around one finger. “I don’t have anywhere better to be.”

“You don’t want to spend today with your family?” The brunette’s gaze didn’t stray from the road ahead.

“No family to spend it with.”

She went quiet again, guiding them out further and further out of the city. Soon the houses became few and far between, replaced instead by fields, lush grass swaying in the wind. A few lazy sheep watched them, poking their heads through wire fences to tear the grass from the roadside. The car began to slow, turning down a road that was more dirt than gravel, bringing them closer to a white building that sat square in a field. A few cars were parked by it, twenty or thirty at most, everything from a faded blue pickup truck to a more recent model sedan. Emma let the car drift off into the field, letting it stop not too far from the church.

It was a pristine white, a beacon in the otherwise empty land. Car doors slammed and voices called out across the field, children sprinting past with wild laughter, getting dirt on their boots and their Sunday best. Claire watched them with a frown, remembering a time when she had been like that, running off to meet her friends for a game of tag before church. Emma seemed to steel herself with a deep breath before walking towards the church, stepping past puddles from the latest lot of spring rain. Claire hurried after her, tugging at the hem of her dress, which, now that she’d thought about it, really probably wasn’t church appropriate at all. The other girl stopped and looked back at her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, gesturing to her own clothes, a blue overshirt and black jeans. “They’re not fussed. It’s why I like this place.”

Claire pursed her lips and nodded, trailing after her. The beginnings of a headache were ebbing at her temple, still light enough she could ignore them. It’d been at least two, three years since she had stepped into a place of worship of any kind, five at least since it had been an honest-to-god church. The hospital chapel didn’t count.

“Emma!” An older woman waved enthusiastically from the double doors, gripping onto her husband’s arm tight. Emma reached over and took Claire’s hand, pulling her towards them. Claire looked at her hand in surprise and allowed herself to be taken to the couple, who were smiling at them brightly.

“Happy Easter!” The woman exclaimed, standing on her toes to lean up and kiss Emma’s cheek. Emma offered her a small smile.

“Happy Easter, Joan. Leo.” She pulled away slightly, still smiling. “This is my neighbour, Claire. She wanted to come for today’s service.”

“Claire!” Joan swept her up in a hug, something the blonde was not at all expecting. She gave an awkward laugh and squirmed slightly, patting the shorter woman’s shoulder. “We’ll see you girls inside, okay? I’ve got to go grab the kids.”

“Happy Easter,” Claire mumbled as they went off after a pair of grinning children sprinting through the grass. Once they were out of earshot, she turned to the girl beside her and hissed, “It’s Easter?”

Emma gave her the first real smile she’d seen. “You don’t keep track of this kind of thing, do you? You stared at me like I was crazy when I wished you a Merry Christmas last year.”

“No,” she muttered. “No, I don’t keep track of this kind of thing.”

They filed inside with the rest of the congregation, finding seats towards the back of the crowd. It seemed smaller on the inside, crowded with row after row of benches. The crowd was still talking amongst themselves, quieter than before, sharing stories, wishing each other a happy Easter. Claire fingered at the cross that dangled around her neck, feeling out of place. Emma handed her a bible, flipping through one of her own.

She let her fingers drift over it, noting the cracked spine and yellowed pages. It was well-loved, clearly handled but hundreds of people over the years it had been sitting in the church. She thumbed through it, glancing over words that she knew were once familiar to her, had once held great meaning, but now just seemed hollow and foreign. The last time she had held a bible, she’d thrown it at Castiel’s head.

The sermon started, but she paid it little mind, busy reading over the pages she had so loved in her youth. This was a different edition to the one she’d grown up with, but the intent behind the words was the same. She stopped at the Psalms, where someone had underlined several lines in thick, dark pen, highlighting a verse out of the many on the page, the ink almost obscuring the fine type.

 

 

> _The LORD hears his people when they call to him. He rescues them from all their troubles.  
>       The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed._

With a slight frown and a barely suppressed laugh, she flicked through a few more chapters, not realising how deeply engrossed she was becoming in the book. It had left its mark on her, many years ago, and there was some small part of her that knew she had no choice but to believe - but while she believed, she had no faith. Not in God, at least.

 

 

> _Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said. “Why did you doubt?”_

“Because you gave me no other choice,” she mumbled. Emma looked to her, and to the page, before taking her hand once more and giving it a gentle squeeze. Claire blinked, returning the gesture. She’d known her for five months, now, but this was the closest they’d ever been; she hadn’t realised Emma was so affectionate, but she  _was_. And Claire liked that about her - it had been a long time since she’d met someone so open.

The sermon was winding down, but she didn’t feel quite ready to leave yet. If she’d managed to land herself in a church on Easter Sunday after a night of drinking, maybe she was meant to be here.

Emma didn’t move to leave, either, even after everyone else started to shamble their way to the doors, chattering amongst themselves. Leo and Joan waved as they passed by, along with one or two others who gave Emma bright smiles. She returned them, inclining her head slightly, looking every bit the demure church-going girl. Claire stared at her as the church emptied, noting her bare face, her tired hazel eyes. There were dark bruise-like marks beneath her eyes, not so heavy she looked ill or hurt, but dark enough. A few stray hairs drifted into her face, and she tucked them back, finally meeting Claire’s eyes.

“Why’d you decide to come today?” Emma tilted her head to the right, resting it on one hand. Her blue nails shined in the dim light of the church. Claire noticed for the first time that the roots of her hair were not quite the same shade as the rest of it; a quarter-inch of dark blonde was just visible around her hairline.

Claire shrugged, touching the cross around her neck again. “Why did you?”

“I come every Sunday,” was the soft reply. “It makes me feel closer to my father, I guess. I don’t think he was big on church, but from what I last heard of him...he had to believe. So I do, too.”

“I used to,” Claire spoke before she could stop herself. “But things...happen. My dad left. My mom left. And I just - I didn’t even have anyone to watch over me, any more. So having faith just seemed...”

“Wrong,” Emma finished for her. She tapped one foot on the polished floor anxiously, shrugging. “My mom gave me away. My dad didn’t want me. I nearly ran into him a couple of years back, but I didn’t think he’d recognise me, so I didn’t bother.”

“That’s rough.”

The brunette huffed out a strangled noise that she was pretty sure was meant to be a laugh. She gave Claire a shaky smile, with a slight shrug. “Yeah. It was a pretty rough couple of years. I got out of there, though.”

“To Maine?” Claire asked.

“To Maine,” Emma echoed, not quite meeting her gaze. Claire looked away, then, swinging her dangling legs back and forth. These pews were a lot higher than the ones in the church of her childhood; a lot harder, too. But the church itself was beautiful. Five wide windows ran down either side of the building, light streaming in to illuminate the honey-coloured wood, the silver cross hanging behind the stand. It was ornate, delicately carved with a neat, beautiful pattern. In her old Illinois church, the cross had been a dark, wooden crucifix, adorned with a smiling saviour as opposed the suffering man that was depicted on every other crucifix she’d ever seen. No, but this church was beautiful, full of light. She'd consider getting married here, if she ever got married.

“Hey,” Emma broke through her thoughts, looking somewhere to her left. “If you want to go, um, wait outside, you can. Talk to Joan, she’s nice. I’m gonna be in here a little while longer.”

“Sure,” Claire said, standing. She trailed her fingers over the bench, placing the bible back into the slot it had come from. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

As the blonde made her way down the aisle, she turned back, to see the other girl clasp her hands together and lower her head, eyes closed. She knew better than to ask what she was praying for; they were all praying for something. Claire hesitated at the very back of the church, looking up to the cross on the wall, running her thumb over the cross around her neck. She wore it more out of habit than anything, these days; it worked as a protective symbol in a fix, and she’d used it - more than once - to make holy water.

Briefly, she mumbled a prayer of her own and crossed herself, before making her way outside. The congregation was still milling about, discussing their plans for the rest of the day, catching up. Church, she remembered, was the social occasion of the week. Leo and Joan were standing off to one side, talking to an older man with dark, curly hair. Their children had resumed their earlier game of tag, this time having dragged several of the others into it. After hesitating, Claire approached them, plastering a smile on her face and ignoring her rapidly pounding heart.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m not sure if you remember, I’m -”

“Claire!” Joan beamed at her. She could see why Emma liked this woman; she seemed to gravitate towards her, smoothing down the shoulders of her jacket in an almost maternal way. “Emma’s told us about you before, you know. Claire, this is Aaron.”

“Pleasure,” the man gave her a small smile, nodding to her briefly. “I’ll be off. Leonard, Joan.”

“Aaron.” Leo briefly shook the man’s hand, before turning to Claire. His smile was gentle, the corners of his eyes crinkling easily in a way that showed it was something he did often.

“Emma’s told you about me?”

“Yes, of course.” Joan was giving her a fond smile, now. “You’re her neighbour. She was over to our house for dinner at Christmas - such a shame about her parents, you know - and was telling us about you. Says you make good coffee, the best she ever had.”

Claire laughed, still feeling somewhat out of place with these bright, happy, achingly normal people. They were so - so apple pie life, so kind. She wasn’t sure how Emma had come to meet them, if it was just through the church or what, but she found herself glad that the girl had people so loving in her life.

“You’re not being embarrassing, are you?” Emma seemed to appear out of nowhere. Claire nearly jumped straight out of her skin, she was so surprised, because Emma’s approach had been so silent. Joan laughed and cupped Emma’s face, patting her cheek. Emma pulled away with a shy smile.

“You girls what to come for lunch? Leo’s parents are in town.”

“My mother makes the best apple pie you’ll ever have,” Leo declared, the first time Claire had heard him speak properly. His voice was deep, cheery - not as deep as Cas’s, but pretty close.

Emma looked at Claire, who merely shrugged. It was up to her. Like she said, she had no plans for the day, but if Emma had something on later she’d rather go to, Claire wouldn’t be offended. “If it’s alright with Claire,” Emma smiled, “I think we might skip lunch today, sorry. Maybe some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Joan said it with such certainty that Claire had no doubt she would. She looked between the two of them, smile unwavering. “We’ll see you next week, Emma. And you too, hopefully, Claire.”

“Bye,” Claire said, waving as they walked away. She blinked, not quite sure what had just happened. Were all people like that? Winchesters weren’t, that’s for damn sure.

“A bit overwhelming, huh?” Emma nudged her with her elbow. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to do a whole three hours with them. I still find it pretty hard, sometimes.”

“Don’t blame you,” Claire laughed. “They’re lovely, though. They are. Do you just know them through church, or...?”

“Just church,” she confirmed. “I first started coming here about a year ago. Drove down from Maine. Didn’t have a job or a place to call home, so when I found the doors open, I just walked in and fell asleep inside. They found me early the next morning, about an hour before the Sunday service. Joan got me a job, they let me crash in their spare room until I was able to get my own place. They’re...well, I owe them everything, I guess.”

Claire found herself smiling, but she wasn’t sure why. The story, sweet as it was, didn’t make her happy. It just reminded her how little she really knew about her quiet, often private neighbour. She looked down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths. She knew she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her history, either. But Emma had surprised her today - when she’d asked her that morning if she could come, she hadn’t expected this. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Emma so relaxed, either, but out here she truly looked like she was where she belonged.

“You wanna go for a walk?” Emma offered. “There’s a creek, not far from here. The kids’ll sometimes play in it, if it’s a warm day.”

“Sure,” she replied. A walk. She was beginning to think this had to be a dream, because no way could she be having such a pleasant day.

They made their way across the field, past the rows of cars and towards the brush. The trees were together in a tight thicket, where several children were laughing and shoving each other gently. After a few moments, Emma reached over and took her hand again; Claire’s heart jumped in her chest. She swallowed and gave Emma’s a light squeeze. Emma was beautiful in the shadows of the trees, pale skin seeming to shine in the dim light. Her eyes seemed almost gold, for a moment, before the green showed through. They were definitely hazel, framed by long, dark lashes, with a very light - so light she could barely see it - splattering of freckles across her nose.

Claire suddenly felt self-conscious, brushing her fringe away from her face once more, chewing on her bottom lip. She wondered how badly her makeup had managed to smudge in the two hours since they’d left their building. No doubt she looked like a disaster, now, a trashy girl who hadn’t even bothered going home last night, who was still in yesterday’s clothes. Emma looked - good. Really, truly good. Not just in an aesthetic way, though that was  _definitely_ present, but just...good. Wholesome. Like she’d never hurt anyone in her life.

They stopped by the creek, settling on the slightly damp ground as the children splashed at each other a little away. Emma smiled, watching them, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Claire knew that feeling. 

“You ever want kids?” She said, turning her head to face her. Emma shook her head, but didn’t give a reason as to why. Claire didn’t ask. Parents probably had something to do with it - that was the reason when it came to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want kids, exactly; it was that she was terrified of not only repeating the same mistakes of the past, but the idea passing down the Novak bloodline was horrifying to her. She never wanted a kid - especially her own - to go through what she had.

The creek ran smoothly, quietly, its surface undisturbed. The air by the water was cool, but the sun warmed their backs, leading Claire to shrug off her jacket and let it rest in her lap. Emma paused before rolling up her sleeves, reaching up to push her hair behind her ears again. There was a white mark on her wrist, one she couldn’t clearly see; it looked like some kind of scar or tattoo. She rubbed at her own inked wrist absentmindedly, thumb brushing over the stars that ran up her forearm. Emma glanced down, then stopped, focusing on them, lashes fluttering slightly.

“They’re gorgeous,” she said, taking Claire’s hand once more, turning her arm over so she could see them clearly. 

They shared a smile as she looked at them. Five stars in all, and beside them, a rose. The rose had been gotten on impulse, in memory of her mother, a couple of years after Amelia had run away. By that point, she’d had almost no doubt in her mind that her mother had died. It was the only reasonable excuse she could come up with for her to have been gone for so long. The stars, though, had been inked in later, in memory of her father. Five, for each year he’d been missing. She had been going to add to it, but then she’d ran into Cas, and well. She’d gotten her answers, there.

“Do you have any others?” Emma asked. Claire tugged down the front of her dress, showing Emma the pentagram that peeked out from beneath her bra. She was glad she’d had the mind to wear her good one last night.

An expression crossed Emma’s face, a frown, almost anxious. Claire pulled it back up, suddenly worried. Had that been too forward?

“Are you a hunter?” The brunette asked, releasing her arm. Claire almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“God, no. They’re all assholes.” She looked over to Emma, who didn’t seem to relax all that much at the reassurance. “How do you know about hunters?”

Emma clenched her jaw, for a moment, a muscle in her cheek twitching before she said, “My father was one.”

That explained it, then. Hunters were shitty parents. Claire hadn’t been raised by one, but she’d been in enough hunter bars and roadhouses to see it - they’d dump their kids in the corner while they got drunk and discussed hunts, or worse, leave them in the car, or ask her to keep an eye on them because more often than not she’d be one of the only girls in the place. Sometimes she felt like hunters just shouldn’t have kids. 

Claire lifted her arm and threw it over Emma’s shoulders, pulling her closer, rubbing the other girl’s arm gently. Emma stiffened, for a moment, then relaxed into it; after a second, her lips twitched into a smile. It was almost silent out by the creek, now, most of the children having run off back to their parents; those that hadn’t were over in the field, their laughter carrying on the wind. The dirt was damp and the grass sticking to her thighs itched, her head was still throbbing, and her feet still ached from being squeezed into her heels all night, but damn if this wasn’t the most content Claire had felt in months.

“We should head back,” Emma mumbled. Neither of them wanted to, though, and neither girl moved. Claire didn’t want to go back, not to the car, not to their building, not to the life where she only ever spoke to Emma in passing. She was almost sure she was still half-buzzed from last night, but this felt good. It felt like it was how things were meant to be.

Claire let her go, after another moment, standing and brushing off the back of her dress, offering down a hand to help Emma up. The brunette allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, flicking grass off her shirt and what little dirt had managed to get on her jeans. The blonde shrugged on her jacket again, pulling her curls free from it and shaking them out. Emma smiled again, her bright, lovely smile. She offered Claire her hand.

They walked, hand-in-hand, back to Emma’s car, talking softly. A herd of rabbits bounded by, causing Claire to grab Emma’s arm tight, pointing them out. Emma laughed, then, happy and clear, and pulled her back towards the car.

“Happy Easter, Em,” Claire grinned.

“Happy Easter, Claire.” Emma looked at her with those gorgeous hazel eyes, cheeks rosy. “Do you want to go get a coffee, sometime?”

Claire played with the cross around her neck for a moment, knowing that by now she was starting to blush, too. “I’d love to. Is now good for you?”

“Now is  _great_  for me,” she laughed. They climbed into Emma’s Malibu, waving goodbye to the few churchgoers still around. Emma reached over to turn on the radio, letting some classic rock fill the car with noise. Claire gave a happy sigh, turning back to watch the church grow smaller and smaller in the distance as they headed back towards the city.

 

 

> _ And now these three remain; faith, love, and hope. But the greatest of these is **love**. _


End file.
